Grief
by Poohbear-29
Summary: Chris and Josiah both learn to deal with Grief


Title-Grief

Author-Winnie

Rating-T

Disclaimer...still not mine and I make no money from this story.

Comments-This story is for Marti in honor of her birthday. She is a wonderful beta and an even better friend. I hope this fits the bill, Marti.

Chris Larabee winced as he used the axe to cut into another chunk of wood and knew Nathan would probably give him hell for what he was doing. The problem was Chris had so much on his mind that he needed to do something to keep from thinking about how close he'd come to spending the rest of his life with the devil's bitch.

It had been nearly two months since Ella Gaines had come back into his life and set her sight on making him love her. It had nearly worked too, and he couldn't help the gnawing guilt that made him queasy as bitter bile rose in his throat. He dropped the axe and moved to the edge of his shack as his stomach gave up its contents and left him with a bitter taste in his mouth that no amount of forgiveness could erase. He walked back to the front of his home and picked up the axe as the sun beat down on his bare back and chest.

Jack Averil's bullet had caught him on the right side and nearly killed him, but with the help of his friends, and Nathan's healing hand, he'd lived through both the pain and the fever. Even now he was still weak and found himself fighting to do the things that he'd always taken for granted. He needed to take out his anger at Ella Gaines, and at himself for being so stupid, but it didn't seem to be helping.

Chris knew he needed to talk to someone, but Buck was too close. The man had known Sarah and Adam and still blamed himself for keeping Chris away that day. It didn't matter that Chris told him again and again that he was a grown man and could have gone hoe at any time. Buck just couldn't grasp the fact that he was not to blame for Ella's actions and what it had cost him that day.

Vin Tanner was another option, but he'd felt his friendship with the other man was strained since the man had returned with the news that Ella Gaines owned Culpepper Mine. He'd been angry that the Texan had checked into her story, yet he understood he'd done so because of their friendship. Vin's news was the reason he'd discovered Ella's little shrine. They'd barely escaped with their lives, and the bitch was still out there.

"God Damn it!" Chris shouted and slammed the axe into another chunk of wood before dropping to his knees as the memory of Ella's closet seared into his mind as if he was standing in front of it. He needed to talk to someone who could help him understand why God had taken his family from him and let Ella Gaines walk around as if he belonged to her.

Chris breathed through his nose and swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal as he stood up and looked toward the corral. Pony stood at the far side, his head down as he grazed at the hay Chris had tossed him earlier. The sun had gone down and a soft breeze rustled the leaves nearby, lending an air of peace to his 'little piece of Heaven'

There was one man he could talk to, one man who had probably forgotten more about God than he'd ever know. It would be dark soon, but Chris could find his way back to Four Corners in the dark. He reached for the blue shirt he'd thrown over the corral fence and pulled it on before grabbing his gun belt and securing it around his waist. He thought about Josiah, about that strong voice that could sound like the voice of doom at times, yet it could also be a soothing balm on a man's soul. Chris needed to hear his wisdom, and hoped Josiah could help him see that God had not forsaken him and thrown him to the lions.

Chris made sure everything was put away before saddling Pony and mounting the animal. The soft breeze gave an air of peace to his surroundings and he nearly dismounted, but he needed to do this. He needed to speak to Josiah and ask forgiveness if he was going to find any kind of peace himself.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

The town of Four Corners was quiet under a midnight black sky filled with stars surrounding a full bodied moon. The people had retired to their beds long ago and nothing moved except the canvas on the covered wagon belonging to Vin Tanner. In the distance the sound of a coyote was soon followed by another as crickets chirped in the nearby grass.

Ezra Standish was alone in the saloon and knew it was time to retire as there seemed to be nothing moving outside. Even Inez had gone t bed when the last of the customers had left nearly an hour ago. Ezra looked at the deck of cards on the table before him and automatically picked them up and shuffled them several times before placing them in the pocket of his red coat and making his way toward the stairs leading to the room he used at the top.

Buck Wilmington smiled at the buxom woman whose bed he shared. Blossom was one of his favorites and she seemed to share his love of sex and showed it with her prowess in bed. Her husband was out of the picture, having gotten himself killed while in another woman's bed. Blossom had cried over his loss, but she'd also told Buck there's had been a marriage of convenience and not one of love. He felt her wrap her arms around him and pulled the blankets up over them as they explored each other's bodies.

JD Dunne sat inside the town jail where two cowhands slept off the effects of the liquor that caused them to start a brawl that ended with a broken table and several shattered glasses in the saloon. It hadn't taken much to get them under control and with Buck's help they were now safely locked behind bars. JD reached for the dime store novel he kept in the desk drawer and opened it to the page he'd folded down. There were very few times when the town was peaceful and he could read without interruption.

Nathan Jackson finished checking the herbs he kept on the shelves in his clinic over the livery and made a mental note to refill his supplies in the morning. It had been a quiet day, one that he relished since it gave him a chance to go over the medical journal Orin Travis had brought with him the last time he'd come through Four Corners. It was written by one of the top doctors at Johns Hopkins and Nathan had been extremely grateful for the gift. The judge had told him he'd bought it because the people of Four Corners had chipped in what they could in a show of support for his work. Nathan looked wearily at the bed and extinguished the lamp before making his way toward it and stretching out on top. Sleep came for him and brought dreams of Rain with it, dreams he cherished and hoped to fulfil someday.

Vin Tanner curled on his side in the back of the wagon and thought about his friendship with Chris Larabee. The man could be a bastard at times, but Vin was beginning to understand where his anger had come from that day at Ella Gaines ranch. Chris hadn't known she was behind Sarah and Adam's death and had seized the chance to be happy again. Vin couldn't blame Chris for wanting that, hell he'd given anything for a chance at a normal life, but with the bounty hanging over his head that was not to be. His thoughts returned to Larabee and the woman who'd almost killed them all and had managed to disappear without a trace It made Chris just as much a prisoner as he was because Chris would not allow himself to think about a life outside the seven with Ella's threat hovering over his head. He'd spent a couple of weeks searching for her, but she'd melted into the landscape. Somehow he'd help Larabee find the she-devil and make her pay for what she'd done. Vin closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep with the soft breeze rustling the nearby trees.

The church at the far end of the town was silent and dark, yet the man known as a preacher sat alone inside with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his left hand. His eyes were filled with pain and tears glistened on his cheeks as he stared at the paper clutched tightly in his right hand. The missive had been delivered by the hotel owner who also acted as a telegraph operator and Josiah had sworn him to secrecy even as he'd grabbed two bottles of whiskey and made his way to the church.

Josiah had entered the church and sat on the front pew before opening the first bottle and drinking half of it without stopping. He re-read the message as his throat constricted and a near silent sob escaped before he closed his eyes and took another long swig of the fiery liquid that burned a trail down his throat. He thought about his life and that of his sister and what else he could have done to protect her, but no matter how hard he'd tried it always came back to this point in time.

"Hell!" he shouted and grabbed for the bottle with one hand and the gun that had rested next to it with the other. Not thinking or caring about the consequences he made his way to the door and stood there for several minutes, cursing God and anyone else who could possibly add to his anguish and fired his weapon into the air. He reloaded quickly and fired several shots into the street before several male voices reached him and he stood shaking in angry defiance.

"Josiah, put the gun down!" Wilmington ordered, his own gun in his hand as JD warned the townspeople to stay inside.

"Josiah, you don't want to hurt anyone so put the gun away," Tanner tried as Standish joined them in the street.

"What makes you think I don't, Vin? What makes you so fucking sure I don't want to put a bullet in someone?" Sanchez snapped and fired his gun into the air.

"Maybe we should rush him," Dunne offered.

"You want to try it, Son, come on!" Sanchez said and fired another shot.

"JD, stay put," Vin warned. They'd all seen Sanchez drinking on several occasions and the man was a downright miserable, violent drunk. "We ain't gonna rush ya, Josiah, but yer scarin' the folks and we was jest wonderin' what's goin' on."

"it's none of your business, Vin...none of you understand and I'm not going to explain it to you! To hell with it!" Sanchez said and fired the weapon again, this time it pinged off the sign across the street, but they'd been lucky that so far he'd been shooting at everything, but them.

"Josiah, ya wanna tell us what's got ya so angry?" Jackson tried upon joining them in front of the church.

"Hey, Nathan, welcome to the party,," Sanchez said and dropped down on the top step.

"Can I sit with you?" the healer asked.

"If you want to...but if you want a 'spirit' you'll have to go see Ezra 'cause I'm just about out," Sanchez said and bowed his head as his friend reached out and took his gun. "Guess I woke the whole fucking town."

"Think so, but it looks like they're all headed back to bed now that the excitement's over. Now why don't you give me the bottle and do the same?" Jackson suggested.

"Ezra, get me another one," Sanchez ordered.

"I believe you've imbibed a sufficient amount of 'spirits' for one night," Standish said.

"And what makes you such an expert? The only other man who can even come close to knowing when he's had enough is Chris and since he's not here I'm the only one who know. Get me another bottle or I'll take it," Sanchez said, pulling away from Nathan and staggering into the street.

"Josiah, stop!" Jackson ordered. "You've had enough!"

"Not even close," Sanchez told him and struck out at Wilmington when Buck moved to stand in front of him.

Buck staggered back with the force of the blow to his jaw, but didn't go down as Dunne raced toward the bigger man, only to be thrown off like a leaf in a strong breeze. Wilmington went to move in, but Vin took the chance and got in behind Sanchez and brought him down with a blow to the back of his head.

"Nice move, Mr. Tanner," Standish said.

"Thanks, Ez," the Texan said with a hint of a smile.

"What do we do with him?" Dunne asked.

" Put him in the empty cell and let him sleep it off," Jackson told them once he made sure the ex-preacher wasn't injured.

"Good plan," Wilmington said and moved to help lift the unconscious man. "Jesus, Vin, couldn't you have waited until we were closer to the jail?"

"Could have, but he'd have probably knocked you and JD into next week if I did," Tanner told him. Between the five of them they managed to get Sanchez inside the jail and settled onto the cot in the empty cell.

"Mind keeping it down...we're trying to sleep," one of the cow hands in the next cell complained.

"Shut the hell up!" Dunne snapped tiredly.

"Hey..."

"JD, why don't you let them two out so you can get some rest. Ain't no reason fer them ta have a free bed jest 'cause they's fightin'," Tanner said.

"You heard him...get the hell out and go home!" Dunne ordered.

"We got no where to go until tomorrow!"

"Not my problem, but don't let me catch you sleeping in the street or I'll shoot your sorry behinds," the Bostonian snapped.

"JD, better lock Josiah in," Jackson ordered once the cow hands were gone.

"Why?" Dunne asked.

"You really want to face him if he wakes up drunk or worse...hungover?" the healer asked.

"I see what you mean," Dunne said and made a point of locking the door.

"Well, I left Blossom anxious for more..."

"Sleep," Dunne finished and received a slap on the back for his effort. "Hey, I was only saying what we're ll thinking."

"Yeah, well, sleep is not even close to what she's waiting for. You stay here and take care of Josiah while the real men take care of..."

"You gonna use your hand again, Buck?" Tanner deadpanned before he and Ezra walked out of the jail.

"That was crude, but well said, Mr. Tanner. Can I interest you in a game of chance?"

"No, thanks, Ezra, I got early patrol tomorrow and then I'm headin' fer..."

"Did you suddenly develop a malady that robbed you of speech, Mr. Tanner?" Standish asked when the Texan stopped on the edge of the street and grew quiet as he gazed at something further down the street.

"Sorry, Ez, thought I saw Pony."

"I believe you are mistaken, Mr. Tanner," the conman said as Jackson walked past them and hurried wearily toward his clinic. "If Mr. Larabee was in town he would have checked the commotion caused by Mr. Sanchez."

"Guess yer right," Tanner said, but he walked toward the livery.

"Hey, Vin, when did Chris get here?" Jackson called.

"Shit," the Texan cursed and looked around. "Ezra, go get Buck and tell him to get his ass back here so we can search the town."

"Whatever for? Mr. Larabee is probably sleeping it off in his room."

"I don't think so," Tanner said as a chill ran down his spine. Somehow he knew something had happened to Larabee, and it stemmed from the drunken rage they'd seen in Josiah Sanchez. Vin looked around the deserted street as the breeze rustled a piece of brush between the nearby buildings. He heard Ezra speaking beside him, but he ignored him as he moved toward the church.

Vin knew Josiah's anger could manifest itself in many ways, most of the time he drank and passed out, but he'd seen him during the time when Emma Dubonnet was in town. Then again when the detective had blamed him for murdering the women. Josiah was angry and drunk both time and it was during the latter time that Vin found out about his sister Hannah.

Vin knew Josiah was capable of violence where his sister was concerned, and wondered what had sent the man on a drinking rage this time. He pushed those thoughts away once he reached the church and began searching for any sign of Chris Larabee. God, he hoped he was wrong and that the blond was indeed in his room in a drunken stupor, because the alternative was not something he wanted to face.

Tanner listened to the sound of the wind rustling the nearby trees, while night birds called to each other in the darkness. It was the normal sounds of the night, and usually made him feel comfortable, but right now Vin was anything but comfortable with his surroundings. He thought he heard Jackson call to him, but a deeper shadow against the side of the building nearest the church made his heart beat faster against his chest.

"Chris," he whispered and quickly covered the short distance, cursing when he saw the body sprawled in the dirt. " Nathan!"

"Where the hell are you, Vin?" Wilmington called.

"Buck, get Nate...I found...I found Chris!" Tanner called.

"Why the hell can't you men shut up and let normal people sleep?" a voice called from a room at the hotel.

"Shut the hell up, Conklin!" Wilmington shouted and raced toward the sound of Tanner's voice as he called for Jackson. "Vin, hell! How bad?"

"Bullet hit him in the right side. Ain't no exit wound! Where's Nathan!"

"I'm right here," Jackson said and dropped the bag of supplies on the ground beside the downed man. "Where's he hit?"

"Right side...bullet's still in there," Wilmington relayed what Tanner had told him just as Standish and Dunne reached them.

"Is that Chris?" Dunne asked.

"Yeah," Tanner answered.

"We need to get him up to the clinic so I can see what I'm doing," Jackson told them.

"What happened to him?"

"He's been shot, JD," Wilmington answered.

"But who...who shot him?" Dunne asked.

"I got my thoughts on that one, JD, but let's get him up ta Nate's so he can see how bad it is," Tanner said.

"Look, we need to be careful with him," Jackson said. "I don't know how bad it is and movin' him could make it worse. We need something flat to carry him on."

"There's an old door at the back of the church," Wilmington said.

"Follow me, JD," Standish said and hurried to get the door.

"Vin, I need to see the wound," Jackson said and gently peeled back the shirt, revealing the raw hole in Larabee's right side. He reached for the bandages he'd brought with him and pressed them against the ravaged flesh, eliciting a low moan from the injured gunman.

"Easy, Cowboy, Nate's gonna fix ya right up," Tanner said, worried when he saw the look on Jackson's face as Standish and Dunne returned with the door. From somewhere they'd also found something to cover it in and he nodded a silent thank you to both men as he and Buck eased the injured man onto the door.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Larabee had been blissfully unaware of anything since the sound of gunshots and the feel of molten lead had entered his body. The force had staggered him backward until he could no longer stand and fell to the ground. He'd heard panicked voices, and then nothing as the darkness wrapped around him in a black veil. He was more than willing to let the darkness take him, but those same voices were now at his side and he knew they would not let him give in so easy.

Chris had heard Vin's cry for help and felt the younger man pull him up so that he rested against him. The panic he'd heard was taken up by a second and then a third and forth voice and he knew the pain would soon be back with a vengeance.

Chris tried to find he strength he needed to open his eyes and tell them he was all right, but it felt like every part of his body was weighted down by unseen hands. He finally managed to speak, but the sound that came out was a rasping whisper and went unheard by the men around him. He swallowed several times as the bitter taste of bile rose in his throat and turned his head as nausea churned through his gut. He heaved several times and heard Nathan speaking to him as someone else held him through the torturous agony the movement caused.

"We need to get him up to the clinic," Jackson said.

Chris wanted to protest, and tell them to just leave him alone, but he was lifted and laid on something hard and flat. Whatever he'd been placed on was lifted and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped. He held his right arm tight against his side as the waves of pain twisted along jagged nerves that seemed to fire with each jostling step they took.

"Won't be much longer, Ol' Son," Wilmington said from his position to the left of Larabee's head.

"Is he awake?" Jackson asked from the other end of the make shift stretcher.

"Not sure, but it sounds like he's feeling something," Wilmington answered as they reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the clinic.

"Get me u...up." Larabee finally managed and tried to sit forward, but the fire in his side sapped what little resolve he had.

"We ain't gonna be able ta git 'im up there on this," Tanner said as they lowered the door to the ground.

Chris could hardly hear them over the pounding in his head and was sure the train had jumped its tracks and would come rolling through the town, rattling the windows until they shattered in much the same way his head would do if this continued.

"Sorry, Pard, but this is gonna hurt."

God, he hated it when Vin said things like that because it usually meant doing something he didn't want to. He felt hands on his arms and cried out as they pulled him to his feet. His arms were draped over two shoulders and they supported him as they started up the stairs. He felt every jarring step and held his breath as he tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else, but something told him he'd feel everything.

"Put him on the bed and get them clothes off him," Jackson ordered.

Chris was never so glad to be off his feet, and wanted to close his eyes and lay down, but it wasn't to be. The others were helping take off his duster and shirt and he looked down, shocked to see the blood leaving his body from a hole on his right side.

"Damn...if it was a little higher you'd be able to draw a face on your body, Stud," Wilmington said.

"Shut up, B...Buck," Larabee said, relieved when they finally eased him onto his back. He felt someone tugging at his boots and his pants quickly followed. A blanket soon covered him to the waist and Nathan sat on the edge of the bed with a bottle and syringe in his hand.

"Chris, I'm going to give you some morphine before i go digging for that bullet," Jackson told him.

"Just...just remem...ber it's not dirt you're dig...digging in," Larabee said and heard the others chuckle. He closed his eyes as the room began to spin and felt Nathan slapping at his arm before feeling the tip of the needle enter his body. Chris was not a stranger to morphine and knew it wouldn't be long before the drug took control and the fire in his side would be doused.

"Buck, you and Vin make sure you hold him down. The morphine should help, but I want you ready if he starts fighting."

Those were words Chris remembered all too clearly as being spoken not too long ago. The morphine was kicking in fast and he felt his mind drifting, but he didn't want to face the dreams his thoughts conjured up. He heard the voices, but they seemed to be growing distant as a face swam before his closed lids. A face that he'd once considered beautiful, but now reminded him of a demon whose horns lay just below the surface.

"Ella...bi...bitch..."

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

"Did he just say..."

"Yes, Kid, she's still causing him nightmares," Wilmington said and poured hot water into a bowl. He carried it over to the table beside the bed while Vin grabbed several clean towels.

"All right, Buck, you and Vin need to hold him down for me," Jackson said and waited for the two men to take up position on the bed. He knew Ezra and JD were there and would help if needed, but right now he hoped Larabee was so far under he wouldn't put up much of a fight. He glanced at the injured man's pale face before turning his attention to the wound as Ezra used a clean towel to wipe away the fresh blood. Without a word, Nathan pressed the instrument into the wound.

JD felt his stomach lurch when Larabee cried out and fought weakly against the two men holding him down. It brought back too many memories of how close they'd come to losing Chris when Jack Averil shot him at Ella Gaines' ranch. He'd thought they were going to lose the man then, but his stubborn streak came through and he beat 'the devil' once more.

Ezra gently soaked up the blood as Nathan continued to search for the elusive bullet, and didn't flinch when blood got on the cuffs of his expensive shirt. He could see the perspiration on the healer's forehead as he worked to save Larabee's life, and vowed to make sure Nathan knew exactly how much he meant to all of them. He'd proven time and again that a piece of paper meant nothing compared to the hands that worked to save lives.

Buck held tight to Larabee's shoulders and spoke softly to him as he fought against the pain caused by the probing instrument. He'd been with Chris a lot of years and had seen him through some rough times. The worst being the long, anger filled months following Sarah and Adam's murder. How many times had he thought he would lose him, yet Chris had persevered even when facing the worst thing imaginable...the loss of his heart and soul. He wasn't ready to let him go...he couldn't let him go. He lifted his head and looked into Tanner's eyes and knew the Texan felt the same way.

Vin could feel Larabee trying to escape his hold, but it was weak and no where near what he expected from the gunslinger. His friendship with Chris had been a shock, starting with that first look across the street and then with him trusting Larabee with the news that he had a bounty on his head and was wanted for a murder he didn't commit in Texas. For some reason he' been drawn to Larabee, maybe he'd seen a kindred spirit, but whatever the reason, he'd felt at ease telling Chris something that could have cost him his life.

"I got it," Jackson said, relieved when the smashed bullet was taken from the wound and dropped into the basin of water.

"Nathan!" Wilmington said as his friend went still in his arms.

Jackson reached out and touched his fingers against Larabee's throat and flt the telltale flutter beneath his fingertips. He sighed tiredly and smiled at the others as he spoke. "He's still with us. Just passed out...hopefully the morphine will keep him comfortable while I finish cleaning him up."

"What do you need, Nathan?" Standish asked.

"I'll need clean water and pour some carbolic in it," Jackson ordered.

"What about me? What do you want me to do?" Dunne asked.

"JD, go check on Josiah," Tanner ordered and saw anger in Buck's eyes at the mention of the man's name. They all knew Sanchez had fired his weapon in the dead of night without thinking about the consequences. It was easy to put two and two together and come to the conclusion that Josiah had shot Chris.

"Make sure you keep him locked up, JD," Wilmington spat.

"What? Why?" Jackson asked and knew the questions were out of place. Josiah had shot a man, an accident, yes, but he was still drunk and right now it was up to Judge Travis whether he was charged and if so what those charges would be.

"Go, JD," Tanner repeated and watched the Bostonian hurry out of the clinic.

"Buck, bring me those herbs I laid out on the table," Jackson ordered and reached for the clean basin of water Standish brought to him. He gently cleaned the area around the wound, grimacing in sympathy when he saw the dark shades of bruises that were spreading toward his navel. He knew from experience that the bruising would get worse as he stitched the wound closed. He made a poultice with the herbs and placed them over the bullet hole before reaching for the bandages. "Buck, I need you to hold him up while I wrap this around him."

"Sure," Wilmington said and did as Jackson ordered. He held the lean body, willing his long time friend to take each breath as he felt a small shudder run through him. "Almost done, Stud, then you cans sleep. I'll be right here...just like old times."

Vin watched the ladies' man while he spoke to Larabee and felt a touch of envy. Buck's friendship with Chris was well known and could be rocky at times, but there was no mistaking that they cared about each other. Buck had told them the story behind his decking Chris and his comment to JD about having done it before and Vin knew Wilmington was probably the only one who could get away with it.

"Nathan, you need to get some rest while ya can," Tanner said once they had Larabee settled in the bed. "Why don't you use Chris' room and I'll come get you if he wakes up?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Tanner said. "Me and Buck will clean this up."

"Vin, I will make a patrol of the town before I retire for the night, but should you require my services do not hesitate to send for me," Standish said before leaving with the healer.

"He's such a fraud," Wilmington observed and helped clean up the clinic, hoping Larabee hadn't lost too much blood and would survive. He knew, no matter what the outcome, he was going to have it out with Josiah Sanchez.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

JD Dunne looked into the cell where Josiah slept on his right side. Loud snoring testified to the fact that he was sleeping deeply. The smell of sour liquor permeated the air and JD wrinkled his nose before moving back outside where a new day was dawning. He looked toward the church and wondered what had set the man off. Whatever it was it could very well tear them apart, because Buck looked furious at the mention of Josiah's name.

JD couldn't really blame him either because he couldn't think of anything that could make hm so angry he'd just shoot his gun for no reason. What if Billy or one of the Potter children were hit by one of the stray bullets? Josiah could have killed someone, still could if Chris wasn't strong enough to pull through.

Dunne spotted Standish across the street and frowned until he realized Ezra was checking to make sure nothing else could cause them problems tonight, or in this case, morning. JD leaned against the doorframe, hoping that Josiah had a reason for what he'd done, one that would help ease Buck's anger. He turned and went back into the jail and pulled out the well read dime store novel by Jock Steele.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Vin watched as Buck sat beside the injured blond and could feel the undisguised anger in the man's face. He understood how Wilmington felt and wanted to know why Josiah had been so drunk he'd nearly killed Chris Larabee. There had to be a reason, but right now Vin couldn't think of a plausible one.

Vin moved to the window and stared into the street where nothing moved except a piece of brush that rolled down an alley between two buildings. The sun was just peeking up above the horizon and bringing with it the promise of another hot day. Vin looked back at the man sleeping in the bed and knew the stifling heat would not help with Larabee;s condition.

Vin moved to the coffee pot and shook it, pouring the last dregs into a cup and dousing it with sugar. He drank half of it before returning to the window and watching the street below. He spotted Gloria Potter in the doorway of her store and could hear her children calling her. Inez opened the doors of the saloon and looked out into the street before going back inside where she would start making those wonderful breakfast burritos he enjoyed so much. Extra spicy and full of meat and beans. Conklin came out into the street an Vin looked at the man with disgust. There was something about him that grated on his nerves and he knew the others felt the same way. Mary Travis stepped into the street and began delivering the newspapers she carried. He knew she had probably been up late the night before in order to have it ready this early. The whole scene seemed so normal, and he wondered what would happen when word of the shooting got around.

Vin knew most of the town respected them, a few even feared them, and there were people like Conklin who feared and detested them, yet they were the first to expect the seven peacekeepers to protect them when trouble came. Conklin was quite vocal about it, and had been one of the first to try and make the others back him in letting Lucas James go free after he shot Gloria Potter's husband. The man was a sniveling coward, but even sniveling cowards deserved to be protected. At least that's what Judge Travis had told them.

"Vin, is there any more coffee?" Wilmington asked from his position by the bed.

"No, but I'll make a fresh pot," Tanner said.

"Sounds good," Wilmington said.

"Looks like Nate's out. I'll take a walk over to Watson's and get some."

"Check in with JD and make sure he keep Josiah locked up."

"We don't know what happened last night, Buck."

"Don't we? Josiah shot Chris in a drunken rage and there's just no excuse for that. Chris could die, Vin, and if he does then Josiah's to blame for it!"

"Are you the judge, jury, and executioner, Buck?" Tanner asked.

"Are you saying you're not angry about what Josiah did?"

"No, I'm not saying that, but like everythin' else there's a reason. We jest gotta wait 'til J'siah's awake enough ta tell us 'bout it," the Texan explained.

"He could have killed someone," Wilmington said and pointedly looked at Larabee who hadn't moved since Jackson had covered him with the blanket.

"We all make mistakes," Tanner said. "I'll be back...ya want breakfast?"

"Yeah...eggs...and ham...maybe some biscuits and gravy and coffee," Wilmington said.

"I'll be back," the Texan said and left the room He stepped outside and breathed deeply of the air that already warned of the heat that would greet them by midday. He glanced up and down the street, nodded to an elderly couple who sat outside their home, before continuing to the jail where JD was standing in the doorway.

"How's Chris?" Dunne asked.

"He's still sleepin'," Tanner answered. How's J'siah?"

"He's still dead to the world," the Bostonian answered. "Ezra just rode out...said he'd do a short patrol and for you not to worry about it."

"Guess Buck was right 'bout 'im bein' a fraud," the Texan said. "I'm gonna grab somethin' ta eat and head back upstairs. Ya have any trouble with J'siah ya come get me b'fore ya let 'im out."

"What do you think set him off, Vin?"

"Don't know, but we all got demons and sometimes they jet can't be beat 'til it's too late," Tanner said and walked toward the small church. He stepped inside and looked around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He moved toward the front of the church and found the empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the pew. He sat down and looked at the altar, but his eyes were drawn to a piece of paper in the corner. He stood and moved toward it, picking it up and looking at the words that were written there.

Mary Travis was taking the time to teach him to write his name, but he couldn't quite grasp the words on the paper and hoped Josiah didn't mind if he asked someone to read it for him. He picked up the empty bottle, and set it aside before making his way toward the saloon.

"Good morning, Vin."

"Morning, Mz. Travis," Tanner said as she fell into step beside him.

"Where is everyone this morning? Is Josiah all right?" the newspaper woman asked.

"Josiah's fine. He's sleepin' it off in the jail. JD's keepin' an eye on 'im."

"Why' is he in jail?" Mary asked and stopped as Tanner turned to look at her.

"Josiah shot up the church last night," the Texan told her.

"I heard the shots...Billy woke up so I couldn't come find out what was happening. When I checked it was all over. Did he hurt anyone?"

"He shot Chris."

"Oh, God, is he...where..."

"Nathan got the bullet out and he's at the clinic," Tanner answered and wasn't surprised when the woman turned, lifted her skirt and raced toward the clinic. Vin continued toward the saloon before he realized he could have had Mary Travis read the words written on the paper.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Buck heard the sound of footsteps and turned just as the door of the clinic was opened and looked into Mary Travis' distraught face. He knew the woman cared about Chris, hell, he'd thought they were getting close before Ella Gaines showed up. Now, just a little over two months after Jack Averil's bullet had nearly killed Chris, Mary was showing signs that she'd forgiven him. Buck had seen them making eye contact across the street and had seen Chris slip into Mary's home late at night, but he didn't say anything to anyone. They were consenting adults and if they found comfort in each other's arms, then who was he to meddle in their lives.

"Buck, how is he?" Mary asked and made her way to the bed.

"He's lost some blood, but Nate got the bullet out. Right now he's sleeping and that's probably the best thing for him."

"Is it true? Josiah shot him?"

"Yeah, it looks that way, but we need to wait until Josiah's sober enough to answer some questions. Trouble is he may have been too drunk to even know what he was doing."

"Why would Josiah shoot him?"

"That's a good question."

"You don't think he did it on purpose do you?"

"No, I don't think so. I think Chris was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Wilmington answered.

"What does Nathan think?"

"Chris is strong...he's a fighter, Mary. He's proved that more times than I care to think about. I remember him telling Billy he's met the devil and the devil hasn't beaten him yet. I don't think Chris will let him beat him this time either," the ladies man answered.

Mary moved closer to the bed and sat in the chair Buck vacated. She let her eyes wander over his pale face and reached for his hand as tears shone in her eyes. This man was a mystery to her and so were the feelings he invoked after everything that happened with Ella Gains. She'd been bitter and angry after finding out he was staying with the woman, but when he'd been brought back to town weak and hurt, her heart had gotten the better of her. She'd helped Nathan with his wounds and even held him through fever baked nightmares, but once he was on the road to recovery she escaped to the safety of her home where she'd cried herself to sleep on more than one occasion. Even after the letter had arrived from Ella Gains, she'd stayed as far away as she could, but something had changed between them and she'd allowed him into her heart once more.

"Mary, will you stay with him while I go check on the others?" Wilmington asked.

"Of course," the newspaper woman assured him and watched Larabee's face for any sign that he knew she was there. "Don't you do this to us, Chris...to me. I can't lose you, not after everything we've been through. I'm going to stay with you as long as you want me to..."

"Mar...Mary?" Larabee's eyelids fluttered and finally opened, revealing glazed eyes that were heavy with pain.

"I'm here, Chris. How do you feel?"

"Like something's sitting on my gut," the blond answered and tried to get comfortable as he looked at the woman seated beside the bed.

"Are you in pain?" Mary asked and realized how stupid that question was when she looked into his eyes. "Should I get Nathan?"

"Not yet," Larabee answered. "Thirsty."

"Hold on and I'll get you some water," Mary told him and tried to pull her hand from his weak grip.

"Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," the newspaperwoman assured him and poured water into a cup before returning to his side and helping him drink. He took a couple of sips and then turned away as his stomach churned.

"Thanks, Mary," Larabee whispered and pulled her close. He kissed her lips and closed his eyes as the pain reared its ugly head and made it impossible for him to concentrate on anything but it and the nausea churning through his gut.

Mary could tell he was in pain and hurried to the door. She pulled it open and made her way to the railing, relieved when she spotted Nathan Jackson at the bottom of the stairs. "Nathan, hurry," she called and heard his footsteps on the stairs as she hurried back into the clinic.

"What happened, Mrs. Travis?" Jackson asked.

"I helped him drink some water...that's all," Mary told him.

"Chris, I'm going to give you some morphine. Just hold on a minute while i get it ready," the healer ordered.

"...k..." was barely audible as Chris turned on his back and drew his legs up. "God."

"Mary, would you let me in there for a minute," Jackson asked and took the seat as he reached for Larabee's right arm. He found a vein and carefully pushed the needle into it before injecting the medication. "That should kick in pretty fast, Chris."

"Th...thanks, Nathan," Larabee said and looked into Mary's eyes. "I'm okay, Mary."

"I know you are, Chris, but you need to let us take care of you," the woman said. She watched as his eyes closed and knew the minute he'd fallen asleep. "Nathan, is he strong enough to come back from this so soon?"

"I think so, Mrs. Travis. We just need to keep him comfortable and keep watching for signs of infection," Jackson told her and touched his fingers against Larabee's forehead. "He's beginning to get a fever...can you stay with him while I see about getting some water and maybe ice if there's any available?"

"I can stay," Mary told him and reached out to take Larabee's right hand in her own. "now you listen to me, Chris Larabee, because I'm not going to repeat myself. I'm not ready to lose you and neither are the others. Billy and Orin are coming on tomorrow's stage and I expect he's going to want you to take him fishing. I know Vin will take him and billy does like going with him, but Billy looks up to you and there's no one I'd rather have him look up to. I was so wrong about you being 'the bad element' and believe you are very special...not just to billy, but to me too."

"That's nice, Mary," Wilmington said from the open doorway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Buck, I didn't know you were there," Mary said and released Chris' hand. "Nathan asked me to stay with him while he went to get water and see if there's any ice if he needs it."

"I should be the one to apologize. I didn't mean to listen in, but what you said felt right. He needs to know you respect him for the man he is and not who some people see him as."

"I don't, Buck, I mean I know who he is and I know he can be 'wooly' sometimes, but every man needs to unwind sometimes," Mary said.

"So Billy and the judge are coming in tomorrow?"

"Yes, they are," Mary answered.

"Good, the judge will have to make a decision about Josiah."

"Orin is a fair man, Buck, he'll listen to everyone and decide whether Josiah should be charged or not," Mary said. "Look, I need to check with a couple of people."

"You go ahead, Mary, I'll stay here," Wilmington said and watched the woman leave before sitting down to watch over the sleeping blond.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Vin looked around the inside of the saloon and spotted Ezra seated in the back. He walked toward the table and sat down with his back to the wall so he could see anyone who came into the Saloon. He reached for the bottle Ezra had and poured himself a drink.

"By all means, help yourself, Mr. Tanner," Standish said.

"Thanks, don't mind if'n I do," the Texan said and downed the shot before pouring himself another one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper he'd found at the church.

"What's this?" the gambler asked.

"Don't rightly know...found it at the church. Could be why Josiah was drinkin' and shootin' up the town last night," Tanner explained and handed the paper to his friend.

"What if it was meant for Mr. Sanchez only?" Standish asked as he stared at the folded piece of paper.

"It could be the difference between life and death, Ez," Tanner offered. "Read it."

"All right, but if it's something private and intimate I'm blaming you," the gambler warned and looked down at the piece of paper.

"What does it say?"

"It's from the nuns at the convent where his sister stays."

"What's it say?" Tanner repeated.

"It seems Hannah Sanchez passed away two days ago..."

"Hell," the Texan said. He remembered the frail woman with the wild eyes and the story Josiah had told him about his sister and understood why Sanchez had gotten so drunk that he'd finally passed out. He understood why Josiah was angry and wished there was something else they could have done before it came down to this. He poured another shot , downed it and stood up, taking the piece of paper from the conman's hand..

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go check on Josiah b'fore I go see how Chris is doin'," Tanner answered. He left the saloon and headed for the jail, not surprised to find JD readin one of the dime store novels while Sanchez continued to sleep in the cell.

"Hey, Vin, how's Chris?"

"I was just gonna go check on 'im. He been awake yet?"

"He's cried out a couple of times, but he ain't opened his eyes yet," Dunne answered and watched as Vin took the keys and walked toward the cell. "Thought we were gonna leave it locked 'til he woke up in case he was still angry?"

"He's been asleep a long time, JD...shoulda slept it off by now," Tanner said. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, silently moving toward the cot as JD watched from the desk. Vin knew better than to touch a man when he's sleeping off a drunk and called out to the older man. "Josiah, time ta wake u."

"Go 'way," Sanchez grumbled and turned away.

"Need ya ta look at me, Josiah," Tanner tried again.

"Told you to go 'way," the older man repeated.

"Don't think so. We nee ta talk," the Texan said and moved closer to the bed. "JD, go get some coffee...strong and black and lots of it!"

"Sure, Vin," Dunne said and hurried out of the jail.

"Josiah, ya listenin' ta me?"

"I hear you, Vin," Sanchez said, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "What the hell's the hurry? Man's got a right to sleep. What time is it?"

"It's jest after two...ya've been asleep close ta 12 hours," Tanner answered and sat on the cot and held out the piece of paper. "Think this belongs ta ya."

"Where'd you get this, Vin?"

"Found it on the floor of the church."

"This is my business," Sanchez told him, anger evident in his voice and set of his shoulders.

"It's my business when it effects others," Tanner told him.

"It's my life, Vin, it doesn't effect you or the others."

"It does this time, Josiah. What do you remember 'bout last night?"

"Why?"

"Jest wonderin'," Tanner answered and watched as Sanchez rubbed his face before looking at the paper once more. "I got that note and decided to shake hands with the wrong kind of spirits. I think I killed a couple of bottles."

"Ya did...what else do ya 'member?"

"I was alone in the church...thinkin' ta much. Hannah never had a chance, Vin," Sanchez said.

"I hear ya, J'siah...anythin' else?"

"Not really...why?"

"JD said you were awake!"

"Buck, don't!" Tanner warned the angry ladies' man.

"Don't what, Vin? Don't shoot the bastard like he done to Chris?"

"Chris...what's he talking about, Vin? Where's Chris?" Sanchez asked.

"He's at Nate's..."

"And you put him there! You shot him last night!" Wilmington answered.

"I...I shot him?" Sanchez said softly and looked at the Texan for confirmation. "I shot Chris...I don't...how?"

"You got drunk and took your gun and started shooting into the street and Chris got in the way of one of your fucking bullets, Josiah!" Wilmington snapped.

"Oh, God...did I...is he...not again..."

"He's alive, Josiah..."

"No thanks to him," Wilmington snared.

"Go easy, Buck, you don't know all of it," Tanner said.

"I don't need to! Josiah, you're staying in here until Judge Travis arrives. He'll decide what to charge you with!"

"Buck...Josiah's not ta blame..."

"Ain't he? What right did he have to get himself so drunk he'd shoot off his guns and nearly kill a man! Chris is fighting for his life because Josiah shook hands with the wrong kind of spirits again!"

"Buck..."

"Leave it, Vin...he's right," Sanchez said and crumpled the paper gripped tightly in his hand. "Lock the door...no need to wait for Travis. I'm guilty..."

"Damn right you are!" Wilmington spat and turned to leave. "If he dies, Preacher Man...if he dies..."

"Buck, go," Tanner ordered and waited for the irate man to leave them alone. Once Wilmington left he sat back on the cot and looked at the older man sympathetically. "Josiah, why didn't'cha tell 'im?"

"Because there's no excuse for what I did, Vin," Sanchez said. "I'll accept whatever Judge Travis decides to do."

"You're a man, Josiah, yes you made a mistake, but..."

"That mistake could leave a man dead, Vin, a good man who's had his own share of trouble and sorrow."

"So have you..."

"I'm tired, Vin...check on Chris and let me know how he is," Sanchez said and lay back on the cot and closed his eyes. His head pounded, yet he knew it had little to do with the drinking and everything to do with the fact that a man was fighting for his life because of him. God had a strange way when it came to penance, and this just made him embrace his loss of faith even more. His fingers relaxed and he piece of paper dropped to the floor with a slight rustling sound.

Vin knew there was no point in arguing and reached for the piece of paper. He placed it in his pocket and walked out of the cell, leaving the door unlocked as he headed for the clinic. Most of the town had heard about the shooting and several people stopped him to ask how Chris was doing. He'd told them what he knew and hurriedly climbed the stairs to the clinic.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Chris fought to open his eyes, hoping to find the source of the heat that seemed to be burning through his side. The pain was unrelenting and he swallowed against the dryness of his throat as he licked at lips that seemed to lack any moisture. A hand touched against his forehead and something cool was washed over his chest as he finally managed to get his eyes open.

"Chris, I need you to drink this," Jackson ordered as Buck moved to the other side of the bed and helped the injured man sit forward.

Chris took a small sip and tuned his head in disgust. "Water..."

"I'll get you some water once you get this into you," the healer ordered. "Come on, Chris, this'll help with the fever ya got."

"Too fucking hot," Larabee cursed.

"I know...that's the fever," Jackson said and held the cup so that the blond could drink some more. He looked up into Wilmington's face and saw the unbridled fear in the man's blue eyes. "Chris, I'm going to give you a little more morphine to help you rest."

"O...okay," Larabee said and took another sip of the Willow Bark tea. His stomach churned, and he turned his head away, fighting to control the mounting pain as Jackson readied the needle for an injection.

"Easy, Pard," Wilmington said when a tremor shook his friend's body. He'd seen Chris Larabee through some pretty rough times and held him gently while Jackson tapped at the injured man's forearm and gave him the shot of morphine. He felt the lean body relax after a few minutes and eased him back to the bed. "Nathan, tell me he's strong enough to survive this."

"I don't know, Buck, it wasn't long ago that Averil shot him and he's only just getting his strength back. It's a miracle he survived the last time."

"Josiah's got a lot to answer for," Wilmington said.

"Buck, Josiah's a man with a dark past, but he's not a cold blooded killer. Something must have happened to make him get drunk..."

"He's a mean drunk, Nate...remember what he was like with Emma Dubonnet and that Poplar guy? He shouldn't be drinking if he can't handle it."

"What about Chris, Buck?"

"What about him?"

"He's a mean drunk too. Didn't he shove JD when you went to get him in Purgatorio."

"That was different...Chris was trying to..."

"Forget Sarah and Adam were murdered. Josiah's had some bad stuff happen..."

"Hannah died," Tanner offered from the open doorway.

"Hannah?" Wilmington asked.

"Josiah's sister," Jackson offered.

"He got the message late yesterday...figure it's the reason he went on the rampage last night," Tanner told them.

"That's no excuse for shooting up the town...for shooting Chris," Wilmington said.

"Maybe not, but he's hurtin' Buck," Tanner said.

"Yeah, well, he stays in jail until Travis gets here."

"Buck..."

"No, Vin, he..."

"Buck, give it rest," Larabee ground out and turned his head. The voices had penetrated the fog caused by the morphine and he'd heard most of the conversation, although it was hard to make sense of what was being said.

"Hey, Pard, you're supposed to be sleeping," Wilmington observed.

"Hard to do with you jawing," Larabee said and eased up in the bed so that he rested against the headboard. "Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," the ladies' man said.

"I heard some of what you said. Josiah shot m...me?"

"Yeah, he's drinkin'," Tanner answered. "His sister died, Chris, he's tryin' ta..."

"Deal with it the only way he knows how," Larabee whispered.

"There's other ways, Chris, so don't go making excuses for him," Wilmington said.

"I'm not, but I know what he's going through," Larabee said and lifted glazed green eyes to meet the pained blue ones set in a worried face. "I did a lot of drinking, Buck...you were there and I may not remember all of it, but I know I hurt you and tried to push you away. You stayed through it all and asked for nothing in return and that's just what Josiah needs right now. He needs to know he's not alone."

"Now you listen to me, Chris! Josiah could have killed you!"

"But he didn't," Larabee said tiredly. "He didn't know I was there."

"That's not an excuse!"

"I'm not saying it is, but if you can forgive me for everything I did after Sarah and A...Adam, then you can forgive Josiah," Larabee said as his eyes drifted closed once more.

"Let him sleep," Jackson said.

"Not sleeping, just thinking...I wanted to talk to Josiah...still do," the injured blond said.

"Not now, Chris, right now you nee to sleep," Wilmington said and heard the heavy sigh just before his friend dropped off to sleep.

"Buck, ya know Chris is right," Tanner offered.

"Do I? Right now I'm not so sure, Vin," Wilmington said.

"Ya trust Chris?"

"Course I do!"

"Then show it, Buck," Jackson said. "Think about what Josiah's going through right now and..."

"I can't...not when I see Chris like this," Wilmington said, but a lot of the anger was gone from his voice.

"Buck, you need to get some sleep," Jackson said.

"I can't leave him..."

"I'll stay with 'im, Buck," Tanner said and placed a hand on Wilmington's shoulder.

"All right, Vin, just make sure he don't quit on us," the worried rogue said with a weary sigh before leaving the clinic.

"Vin, I'm gonna go check on Josiah," Jackson said.

"Go ahead, Nate, I'll call ya if'n he needs anythin'," Tanner said and settled down to watch over his friend.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Josiah hadn't slept since Buck and Vin left him alone. He thought about his sister and how hard it had been to see her wasting away in the convent, but there was nothing he could do now. Hannah was dead, and he prayed she'd finally found peace. Their father had been a hard man and he'd abused Hannah and said she had the devil inside her because she'd fallen for a young man he thought was beneath them.

Josiah sat up with his face buried in his hands as pain and sorrow washed over him. God help him, but he'd done everything he could to help his sister, yet he'd fallen short and had to place her in the convent. The nuns were good to her, but they were not her family and could never understand what Hannah was going through. A soft sob shook his body as he rocked back and forth on the cot.

"I'm sorry, Hannah, if I'd just been stronger I could have saved us both," Sanchez whispered as tears slipped from his eyes.

"Josiah, are you all right?"

"No, Nathan, I'm not," Sanchez said as his friend sat down beside him. "I couldn't help her, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop what happened. My father beat her so badly and said she had the devil inside her, but she didn't, Nathan. She was a beautiful child and grew into a beautiful young woman and father didn't want her to be...to be happy. He didn't want her to be happy, Nathan, and he saw to it that she wasn't."

"You did what you could for her, Josiah."

"It wasn't enough. She died so beaten, Nathan...beaten and alone because I couldn't help her. I couldn't be there for her."

"You're wrong, my friend. You were there for her and made sure she was safe and cared for," Jackson offered and placed a hand on Sanchez's shoulder, feeling the slight tremble that ran through his body as he spoke.

"Maybe if I'd stayed with her she might still be alive," Sanchez said.

"We are all forced to make decisions we regret, Josiah, you're not the first and you won't be the last. We can be our own worst enemies sometimes," Jackson observed.

"How is Chris?" Sanchez asked and turned to look at the former slave. He could easily read the worry in the soulful brown eyes and wished he hadn't been the one to put it there.

"He's still with us, but he's burning up, Josiah," Jackson answered, knowing this man would not be satisfied with anything less than the truth.

"Another soul I've failed," Sanchez said.

"No, you haven't, Josiah," Jackson said. "You've helped save more souls than any man I know and you're not to blame for being human. For having a weakness just like the rest of us. You're allowed to make mistakes, Josiah, you're allowed to grieve...you're allowed to feel pain. You're allowed to cry."

Josiah took a deep breath and tried to steady himself but Nathan's words were hitting him hard. The man was a friend, a close one who'd come to mean so much more to him. They'd fought side by side through hell and high water and survived to talk about it. The problem was this was his fight, one he could not lose, yet he felt as if he'd already lost it in so many ways. The man fighting for his life right now was just one of many mistakes he'd made.

"Come on, Josiah, you need to eat and sleep in a real bed."

"No, I need to wait for Judge Travis..."

"Josiah..."

"I need to face what I've done and if that means hanging then I'm ready to face it," Sanchez said tiredly.

"No, it won't come down to that, Josiah. Chris is alive and what happened was an accident..."

"One that could have been prevented if I'd just faced my problems head on."

"Maybe, but that's something we'll never know. Come on...I'll buy you dinner and coffee," Jackson said and helped the older man stand. "It's gonna be all right, Josiah."

"Will it," Sanchez whispered and followed his friend from the cell.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Buck paced back and forth on the landing of Nathan's clinic as he waited for JD and Ezra to return with the galvanized tub from the bath house. Chris' fever had grown steadily worse during the early morning hour and the nightmares had started to manifest themselves in the woeful cries from his friend. He heard him cry out for Sarah and Adam and in the same breath he cursed Ella Gaines to hell for what she'd taken from him.

Buck saw the two men coming and moved to the open door to let Nathan know help was on the way. They'd been wiping Larabee down with cold water, but nothing seemed to effect the fever that burned inside him. Vin had gone to round up the townspeople and find as much ice as they could.

"Buck, get in here!" Jackson called as Larabee fought against him.

Wilmington hurried back into the clinic just as Chris lashed out and connected with Nathan's cheek. The blond may be injured and fighting a fever, but there was enough behind the blow to make Jackson stagger back several feet.

"You all right?" Wilmington said, grabbing for Larabee's flailing arms as he spoke.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just be careful with him...he can't afford to lose any more blood!" Jackson warned.

"Hey, Stud, what's got you kicking like a mule in heat?" Wilmington asked and forced the injured man back to the bed. Larabee continued to fight the demons only he could see.

"Kill you..."

"You don't need to kill me, Chris," Wilmington said and laid across the man's chest. "Jesus, for someone on death's bed he's got a lot of fight in him!"

"Good, he'll need it," Jackson said as JD and Ezra carried the large tub into the room.

"Where would you like us to put it?" Dunne asked.

"Right there by the table," the healer ordered. "Buck, can you hold him or do we need to tie him down?"

"I got him," Wilmington said as Larabee went still. His heart skipped a beat until he felt the slight rise and fall of the man's chest against his own.

"Nathan, we got the ice," Vin said. Between him and Yosemite they carried the heavy block between them.

"Put it in the basin, Vin, then I want water in the tub. We need ta get his fever down and that's not gonna be an easy task," Jackson said and glanced at the men in the room. "He's gonna fight like hell when we put him in there, but it needs ta be done."

Buck sat on the edge of the bed and talked softly to the unconscious man as the others filled the tub with water. It had been three days since Josiah shot Chris and the ex-preacher was holed up in his church as if he was looking for absolution. God might give it to him, but until Chris was back on his feet, Buck Wilmington wouldn't.

"All right, Buck, it's ready," Jackson said and watched as the dark head dipped once. "We need to be careful with him. Buck, you and Vin get him up, then I'll want JD and Ezra to grab his legs. Once he hits that water we're gonna need to hold him in there."

"We will, Nate," Tanner vowed and moved to help Wilmington lift Larabee from the bed.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

The heat surrounded him, burning his body much the same way the fire had burned away his family. Their memories would always be a part of him, but their bodies were buried in a grave near the home where all his dreams and hopes had died. He felt hands on his body and tried to pull away as a face formed in his mind, her beauty so real he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her to safety.

"Sarah," he whispered, wondering why he felt so weak as his body was lifted from the bed and he hung balanced between two men, men he wasn't sure he knew.

"All right, Buck..."

Buck...he knew that name...he was a friend...wasn't he? Why wouldn't he help him? Why was he letting him burn? "B...Buck..."

"I'm here, Chris..."

"Help me...hot..."

"I hear you, Pard, we're gonna cool you right down and Nate's gonna make sure you're all right," Wilmington said as JD and Ezra lifted Larabee's legs.

Chris let his head fall to the side and leaned against Buck's shoulder as he fought to stay in the dream where Sarah and Adam waited for him. He wanted to reach out and touch them, to feel them, to tell them how sorry he was, but his feet felt frozen in place. He felt the cold reaching up to encompass his legs, thighs, and buttocks and screamed as the icy chill surrounded both his mind and body. He fought to get away from the deep cold, but hands held him down and a cloth was washed over his upper body.

"Easy, Chris, you're all right now," Wilmington tried, but it didn't seem to get through to his friend.

"B...Buck...ssso ccccold...make it ssstop," Larabee whispered,the words a broken stammer as he fought to get away from the pain.

"It's okay, Chris, you got a fever and we're just tryin' ta get it down," Wilmington soothed and fought to keep the injured man in the water.

"How long, Nate?" Tanner asked.

"A few more minutes...we might have to do this again if his fever goes up again," Jackson told them.

"Buck...sssstop..."

"We will, Chris, just hold on. It won't be long now and then we'll get you back in bed and let you sleep," Wilmington said.

"Hurts...God it hurts," Larabee said and pressed his right arm tight against his side as the fire burned through him and yet he was still surrounded by the cold. He no longer measured time by seconds or minutes, but by how much his body trembled and how much pain he could endure. He willed himself to pass out, but the cold and the agony conspired against him and kept him painfully aware of what was happening.

"Nathan..."

"All right, Buck, get him out of there," Jackson ordered as Wilmington and Tanner moved as one to lift Larabee from the tub of ice and water. He grabbed several towels and wrapped them around the nude body before helping the two men carry the injured blond to the bed.

While they'd had Larabee in the tub, Ezra and JD had taken the time to change the blankets and turn over the mattress. Nathan made sure they dried the lean body off before telling Buck and Vin to place him back on the bed.

"Ssso ccccold," Larabee stammered, his body shaking as Nathan checked the wound to his side.

"I know you are, Chris, but we need to get you fever down."

"Do...don't fucking do that a...again," the blond warned as a thin blanket was used to cover him. He closed his eyes as Nathan's fingers probed the area around the wound and silently cursed when the man said the words he dreaded hearing.

"I need to drain it," Jackson said. "Ezra hand me the syringe."

"Damn..."

"I'm sorry, Chris, but if I don't do this it's only gonna get worse," the healer said and drew liquid into the syringe before injecting it into Larabee's veins.

Chris closed his eyes and felt his mind drifting as the others talked. The morphine controlled the pain and sent him into the dreams and nightmares with no hope of finding his way out until the drug wore off.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Chris fought the fever for six days, waking on the morning of the seventh feeling weak and tired, but without the debilitating heat that had threatened to burn him from the inside out. He licked at dry, cracked lips without opening his eyes even when a cup of cold cider was placed in front of his mouth. He drank several long sips before it was taken away and his eyes opened.

"Welcome back, Pard, thought we were gonna lose you for sure," Wilmington said.

"Came close...thought I was going to meet the devil, but Sarah wouldn't let me," Larabee managed and looked around. "Where...where is everyone?"

"At the saloon. Travis got in yesterday and he's taking testimony from people."

"Testimony for what?" Larabee asked and tried to sit up in the bed.

"Chris, Josiah shot you..."

"Josiah shot me...an accident?" Larabee said, eyes darkening as he looked at his friend.

"He was drunk and started firing...lucky he didn't kill anyone. As it happened he came damn close to killing you," Wilmington offered.

"Why?"

"Why what? Why did he shoot you?"

"No, why was he drinking...why did he shoot his gun?"

"There's no excuse..."

"I'm not asking for an excuse, buck, I'm asking for a reason," Larabee told him.

"He got a wire from the nuns at the convent."

"The nuns looking after his sister?"

"Yeah, she died and I guess..."

"Grief makes a man do strange things, Buck," Larabee said softly and waited for the other man to meet his eyes. "I nearly killed you after Sarah and Adam...probably would have, but you smartened up and left. So why is the judge holding a trial?"

"To see if there's enough evidence to convict Josiah of trying to kill you," Wilmington answered.

"Sonofabitch! Get me up, Buck!"

"The hell I will!"

"Get me up or i swear I'll do it myself" Larabee growled and sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through his side.

"Are you stupid?"

"No, I'm angry! How the hell could you let this happen?"

"I didn't...it's up to Travis what happens!"

"Yeah, well, it's time to stop it. Josiah shot me, but it was an accident! Hand me my pants and boots..."

"Look, Chris..."

"Buck, so help me I'm going...with or without your help...I'd rather it be with, but..."

"Jesus, you're a stubborn bastard ya know that Chris!"

"Been told that a time or two," Larabee said and allowed his friend to help him dress. By the time he was standing, he wasn't sure it was such a good idea after all, but he needed to make sure the judge knew everything.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Josiah Sanchez had not seen Chris Larabee since the week before the shooting, and the sorrow tearing him apart would not allow him to visit the injured man. He'd listened to the people of the town, those that spoke against him and the few that spoke for him. He sat in front of the judge with his head down, and didn't notice the hush that came over the crowd until Nathan cursed from beside him

"What the hell, Buck, are you crazy?"

"It's not his...his fault, Nathan, it's mine," Larabee managed, grateful when someone offered him the seat next to Sanchez.

"Chris, if Nathan says you shouldn't be here then I'm ordering you to..."

"I'm okay, Judge," the blond managed a weak smile before looking at the pale man seated beside him.

"I've seen corpses with better color," Tanner offered.

"Shut up, Vin," Larabee said.

"Chris, you're not needed here right now," Travis said.

"The hell I'm not," Larabee said. "I'm the one who got shot..."

"I'm sorry, Chris," Sanchez said softly.

"Do you know what happened that night, Chris?" the judge asked.

"Not really, but I do know Josiah had a reason for what he did and he didn't shoot me on purpose," Larabee said.

"How do you know? He could have killed you or worse he could have killed one of us! The people your paid to protect, Larabee!"

"That's Mr. Larabee to you, Conklin," the blond snapped without turning to look at the man. "Look, Judge, did they tell you the whole story?"

"He knows, Chris," Sanchez whispered.

"Does he?" Larabee said and turned to the judge. "Did they tell you why Josiah was drinking that night?"

"No, but it seems you know," Travis said.

"I do..."

"Chris, Don't," Sanchez said.

"He got a telegram that day telling him...telling him his sister died. Now I won't go into details about the how or why, but a man has a right to grieve in his own way."

"Not if it gets someone else killed," Travis said.

"It didn't," Larabee said.

"It could have," Sanchez whispered.

"But it didn't, Josiah," the blond reiterated. "I'm the last man who should pass judgement because I've been where you are. I've lost the two most important people in my life and that grief tore me apart. Buck was with me at first, but between the drinking and the abuse I finally drove hm away...I'm sorry, Buck."

"Water under the bridge, Chris," Wilmington said and realized he was beginning to understand why Chris was standing up for Josiah.

"Thanks, Buck," Larabee said and turned to the ex-preacher once more. "I turned away from everything Sarah and Adam represented and turned to whiskey and killing. I lost track of the towns and the gunfights, but I remember the night i finally pushed Buck away for good. It was a small town and this kid was out to make a name for himself in the saloon. I had a bottle and told the kid to go home and let his mama change his diaper. The kid got angry and drew his gun...I shot him...killed him and Buck...Buck knew it was time to leave. Time to get away before the rage inside me killed him too. I don't know how many men I killed after that, but something drew me to this town and I found out I could live without knowing where the next bottle came from. That day at the Seminole village was a new beginning. Now I know grief can burn through a man until he finds a way to deal with it. I'm not saying it'll go away, Josiah, but the raw pain of loss eases and if you let it the love you had for them will help you live with their death."

"Chris, I'm sorry..."

"I know," Larabee said and took a deep breath before turning to the man seated at the front of the makeshift court. "Judge, I know it's up to you, but I'm not blaming Josiah for what happened. If I did then I'd have to blame myself for every man who called me out. Josiah's already hurting and I don't want to see him hurt anymore."

"You can't be serious! He could have killed someone!"

"Mr. Conklin, one more outburst and I'll see to it that you spend a week in jail!"

"Now see here..."

"I believe Judge Travis meant for you to remain silent for the duration!" Standish said and stood toe to toe with the man.

"I..."

"JD, as sheriff it is your duty to keep the peace. Please take Mr. Conklin to jail and lock him up for seven days."

"You can't do that..."

"Keep it up and it will be two weeks with a fine added to it," Travis warned and waited for Dunne to take the man away before turning to the people in the courtroom. "Chris has spoken on your behalf, Josiah, and I believe it is with the consensus of the other peacekeepers that you be released. However there will be one stipulation...I believe you should stop drinking for a period of one year and take the time you need to deal with your sister's death. Court dismissed."

"All right, Chris, let's get you back to the clinic," Jackson ordered.

"Hell, Nathan, I'm here now...I could use a..."

"Chris, do I have to make it an order or will you allow the others to escort you back to the clinic," Travis said as Larabee's men gathered around him.

"Come on, Chris, there's no point in arguing with the judge unless you want to share a cell with Conklin," Wilmington said.

"No way in hell!" Larabee said, and found himself sandwiched between Buck and Josiah, he could feel the others around him, ready to catch him should he stumble and fall.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Chris stood beside the older man as they walked through the cemetery near the convent outside Vista City. The nuns had told them where she was buried and when Josiah had asked him to accompany him, Chris had taken the time to carve an angel on a cross and spent several hours intricately adding the letters of her name. It wasn't very big and was wrapped in a package tied to the back of his horse., a gift to a man who had more faith than anyone Chris had ever known.

A month had passed since the day in the court and so far Josiah hadn't even looked at a bottle of whiskey. He'd spent that time helping Chris heal and once Nathan said he was fit to travel, he'd asked Chris to join him.

"Please, Lord, keep her safe, and tell her I love her and wish I could have done more for her," Sanchez whispered and bowed his head.

"Thanks for coming with me, Chris."

"You're welcome, Josiah," Larabee said and reached for the package. He handed it to the older man and watched as he opened it, the blue eyes filled with tears that escaped down his cheeks as he ran his fingers over the carving..

"Thank you, Chris Larabee," the ex-preacher said and pushed the cross into the soft earth before placing his hand on the grave itself and bowing his head.

Chris moved away as Sanchez knelt beside the grave and placed a small bunch of yellow wildflowers on Hannah's grave. He didn't want to intrude on the man's grief, but bowed his head and did something he hadn't done since Sarah and Adam died.

He prayed.

The End!


End file.
